Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
When Molly and I meet up after two hours, she looks defeated.
“My poor boy,” she says, her voice breaking. “He has to be so cold and scared.”
“We’re not giving up,” I tell her, reaching for her with a hug.
She presses herself against me and I put my chin on top of her head and hold her tight. It feels damn good to have her so close to me, and to be her comfort, but I wish the circumstances were different.
“Should we keep going on foot or go in the car?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. We can cover more ground in the car, but I know my dog, and I don’t think he went very far. I think our chances of finding him are better on foot.”
“We’ll stay on foot, then.”
She pulls back and looks up at me. “Are you sure you want to keep helping? It’ll be dark soon.”
“I’m sure. You want to go inside and warm up a little first? Get something dry on?”
She shakes her head. “I’m dry as can be in this weather. I’ve got my Arctic boots on and my coat is waterproof.” She looks down at my feet. “Oh no. Your shoes are totally soaked.”
“I’m fine.”
Molly gives me an admonishing look. “You should at least go home and change.”
“Nah.”
“Let’s go upstairs and get you some coffee and dry socks at least.”
I shake my head. “They won’t stay dry. I’m good, let’s keep going.”
“I really appreciate this.”
We head back to the house with the pillars, walk the neighboring streets some more and then branch out, covering the commercial district about a mile from Molly’s apartment. The shit weather only gets worse, and every inch of my body is both wet and cold.
We stop to get a slice of pizza and a drink around 7:00 p.m., and a guy in line behind us says, “That guy looks like Kit Carter,” to his friend. Molly and I smile at each other.
With my hair plastered to my neck and my clothes and shoes soaked, I must look like a cheap version of myself. That’s fine, because I’m in no mood to take photos with fans.
“Have you ever had a dog?” Molly asks me as we scarf down our pizza at a tall table with stools.
“Yeah, we had a German shepherd when I was a kid. Ranger. He was a really good dog.”
Molly furrows her brow. “You looked sad when you were talking just then.”
“Yeah, just thinking about how he felt like my only friend during a dark time.”
“When Lance was sick?”
Nodding, I press back against the memories. For a while, I needed Ranger to sleep with me at night. It was the only way I felt safe.
“Anyway, it was hard when he passed away.” I ball up my napkin and throw it on my paper plate. “What about you? Did you have a dog when you were a kid?”
“No. No pets at all, actually. I grew up in a pretty dysfunctional family. My dad left when I was a kid and I haven’t seen him since. I bounced back and forth between my mom and my grandparents until my grandparents sued for custody of me and won.”
Molly’s looking out the window as she talks. It makes sense now. Why she feels so alone, and so self-conscious. She’s been rejected by both her parents and her husband. Made to feel like she’s not good enough.
“Your gram?” I ask. “She’s the one you lived with?”
“Yeah, Gram’s my person, you know?” Molly picks up her garbage and mine and tosses it all into a can. “Should we get back to it?”
“Yeah, it’s a little too warm and dry in here,” I crack.
We walk the commercial district again, Molly starting to cry when she looks at her phone to see if anyone has called about Mr. Darcy and realizes it’s almost 10:00 p.m.
“I don’t think I can just go home and go to bed while he’s out there somewhere,” she says.
“I’ll keep going for as long as you want.”
She looks up at me. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m not leaving you out here alone to look.”
She takes a deep breath, in and out. “Okay, but let’s go check on Gram and get some coffee or hot chocolate. Then we’ll go back out.”
We walk back to her building, sleet no longer falling but the sidewalk icy. After a slip that nearly becomes a fall, Molly holds on to my arm.
As soon as we get to her building, Molly lets out a cry of relief. She grabs the handrail and runs up the slippery stairs to greet the wet, shivering dog sitting there.
“Mr. Darcy!” She drops to her knees and throws her arms around him. “You’re okay. Oh, my sweet boy, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “This is Mr. Darcy.”
“Hey, buddy,” I say, squatting down to pet him. “You want me to carry him up to your apartment?”